Mia Monroe is running. Running from a person she doesn’t ever want to find her. Running from a past she doesn’t ever want anyone to know. Desperate to find a future, that yesterday, she could only dream of having.
Jordan Matthews likes easy. Easy women. Easy life.
Then he meets Mia.
She’s damaged, troubled and has more baggage than any person can carry. But the more Jordan gets to know Mia-for the first time in his life-he finds himself wanting to try hard for something… for someone… for her.
And then life isn’t so easy anymore.
Jordan is everything Mia shouldn’t want. A whole bunch of dirty hotness, tattooed, cocky bad boy, who made his money at poker tables and picked his women up in bars. Yet, Mia finds herself falling for him. Then the past Mia was running from, quickly starts to catch up with her. Because that’s the problem with running… you have to stop sometime.
And when you stop, you get caught.
“I’m so sorry, Mia. He didn’t make it.”
My lips feel numb as I say the words, “He’s dead?”
Dr. Solomon touches my arm, his expression grave. “Yes. I’m so very sorry.”
The muscles in my face are frozen – solid. Which is probably a good thing because I don’t want him to see what I’m truly feeling.
Elation. Relief. Complete and utter relief.
Oliver is dead.
I want to laugh.
“Mia, are you okay? Maybe you should sit down.”
I feel Dr. Solomon’s hand on my arm, guiding me to sit on one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room.
I just can’t believe Oliver’s dead.
I can feel the relief bubbling up inside me.
“Could I have some water?” I ask Dr. Solomon.
He leaves the room, and I’m grateful for the moment alone.
Oliver is dead.
I wrap my arms around myself, hugging tight.
In exhilaration? In comfort?
I guess I should feel something in the form of grief that my father is dead.
But honestly I don’t. I really and truly don’t.
And I’m glad about that.
Then I feel something form on my lips.
Something that hasn’t happened to me in a really long time; not for real anyway. A smile.
I touch a finger to my lips.
There it is; an honest to god smile.
I hear movement by the door – Dr. Solomon.
I force the smile away and relax my features to neutral.
Dr. Solomon takes the seat beside me and hands me a plastic cup filled with ice water. The cold against my fingers makes me shiver.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it in comfort. He probably thinks I’m shivering from shock.
I want to push his hand off. I hate people touching me. I hate men’s hands touching me.
“Is there anyone I can call?” he asks.
He’s asking this, but he knows there isn’t anyone. Oliver was my only family.
I shake my head.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, releasing his hand from my shoulder, resting it back in his lap.
I glance up at him and nod.
I can’t speak because if I do, I’ll quite possibly tell that I’m going to be more than okay.
Not really what I should be saying minutes after finding out that my father has just died, but it’s the truth. For the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I’m really and truly going to be okay.